hangman’s comin’ down from the gallows
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Various drabbles each with their own ratings and warnings. [anthology]
1. Potential

Each of these will come with its own ratings and warnings. Title from "Renegade" by Styx.

* * *

**Title**: Potential  
**Disclaimer**: JD and his momma aren't mine  
**Warnings**: spoilers for pilot  
**Pairings**: none  
**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 160  
**Dedication**: fairiekween13

* * *

Jonathan Daniel Dunne had big dreams. He wanted to be a Texas Ranger, to be a lawman, to help people, to put away bad men and keep the world safe.

Instead, he helped his mother at work, cleaning up Master Jones' manor. Instead, he went to school when he could, hoping to broaden his potential and give himself a future.

Then Ma died, leaving him completely alone, and the scant amount of money she'd saved wasn't near enough to go to college.

Master Jones(who he was almost sure was his father) said he'd have a position for the rest of his life, but he couldn't stand being a servant.

So he headed out west; he'd taught himself to ride on Master Jones' horses, taught himself to shoot when he could, and he would fulfill his dreams.

No one in the world expected him to succeed, but Jonathan Daniel Dunne became JD and he wouldn't allow himself to fail.

****


	2. Renegade

**Title**: Renegade 

**Disclaimer**: Vin's not mine. Alas. 

**Warnings**: spoilers for the fact that Vin got framed and has a bounty on his head. 

**Pairings**: none 

**Rating**: PG 

**Wordcount**: 80 

**Dedication**: fairiekween13, as well. You rock, darling.

* * *

Four months across the plains of Texas, from the panhandle to Mexico's border and back. Trail ends just outside of a little nothing-town and a body dressed as his bounty. 

So he brings the corpse in for money and is called a murderer. He doesn't stick around for the hanging. He leaves Texas, looking over his shoulder the entire way, heading out into the desert. And he stays for a long while, melting into the tribes, abandoning civilization without regret. 


	3. Retribution

**Title**: Retribution 

**Disclaimer**: not my characters. just for fun. 

**Warnings**: spoilers for pilot 

**Pairings**: nada 

**Rating**: PG 

**Wordcount**: 340

* * *

He was once a good man. Few still living remember those days. Most who knew him died in the battle that scarred his mind. 

After he crawled from Shiloh, shattered in soul and body, he felt only rage. He needed vengeance but could not find a place to seek it. The war had ended and his side lost and there was no place for his kind anymore. 

So he became a ghost and he led men like himself through the desert. They killed and they stole and he felt complete again. 

He commanded instant obedience and the respect his army felt for him was firmly entwined with fear. He executed his men for the smallest infractions and they swiftly learned to do as he said when he said. He tolerated nothing less. 

Stories of his army, the Ghosts of the Confederacy, spread through the desert; he expected the North to send forces to deal with him, but it had its own troubles. 

The war was over; his side had lost. But vengeance—ah, it was sweeter than he'd ever thought. 

Until that Seminole village. Until those damned villagers hired gunmen and fought back. Until half his army died in less than ten minutes, cut down by cheaters and cutthroats and illiterate savages he'd discounted as threats. 

He retreated from that town with his tail between his legs, fled for his life with his men by his side. Not only his body and his spirit, but his pride took a beating that day. And as he licked his wounds, listening to his men grumble and curse, he planned for vengeance. 

- 

He was once a good man. Really, he was. He only wanted freedom. 

But he is only pride now, only fury and hate, only despair that wants revenge on those who defeated him so easily. 

So his men mutter and curse, damn him and that village both. And Colonel Emmett Reilly Anderson plans a second attack. 

He'll wipe that village from God's earth, and he'll take all their gold for his trouble. 


	4. Of Names

**Title**: Of Names

**Disclaimer**: not my characters. just for fun.

**Warnings**: spoilers for pilot

**Pairings**: Chris/Sarah

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 560

**Dedication**: for _smilla02_. Thanks, lovie, for introducing me to this show.

* * *

Momma had spoken of soul mates, but Christopher knew she'd always meant a man and woman, husband and wife, sweethearts, lovers—like her and Pa. 

Christopher listened to her stories. He believed in them, knew with absolute certainty that he would find his destiny and his woman, his soul mate.

When he met Sarah he was sure he'd found her. He looked into her dark brown eyes, tangled his fingers in her long brown hair, and believed he'd found his home. He was the happiest he'd ever been, sharing a house and his life with her, and then she gave him a son—and he was even happier.

Momma smiled every time they visited, held her grandbaby close and kissed his crown, his forehead. She and Sarah spoke of family and history, of knowledge Christopher could never fully understand because he'd never borne a child.

"What will you name a daughter?" Christopher heard Momma ask Sarah one visit, when Adam was three.

Pa chuckled and threw an arm companionably over Christopher's shoulder. "They'll be plannin' your future without ya, if ya don't get yaself in there, boy," Pa said.

Sarah answered, "Victoria, if Christopher doesn't mind," and Christopher smiled.

-

But Sarah died, and Adam with her. Christopher was uselessly in Mexico and knew he'd hate himself—and Buck—till the day he died and joined them. Or not, seeing as how he wasn't all that sure he deserved Heaven.

Momma had spoken of soul mates all of her days, until the fever took her. Pa soon followed her, unable to cope.

Christopher stopped believing in Momma's stories when he was left alone. And he wandered, killing and fighting, seeking a death that refused to come. He survived when he shouldn't, rarely got wounded, and cared less by the day.

He left his friends behind, forgot those that cared for him, lost himself in the gun.

-

When he found himself in a little nothing-town, he expected what he'd found in other little nothing-towns spread out across the west. He hadn't fought for anything but the thrill and the rage since Sarah, and he expected nothing different here.

He didn't care, so he continued drinking, walked through the bullet-ridden room, tempting death—but death did not come.

Christopher took in the scene—a dozen white boys against one bound black—and decided to stay out of it. Not his fight. Not his town.

Then the woman got herself involved. Christopher could distantly admire her courage, as the move was something Sarah might have done. But it still wasn't his fight.

And then across the way, Christopher saw the man with the rifle. When he met Christopher's eyes, Christopher tilted his head toward the wagon moving through the town. The man dipped his head slightly, so Christopher nodded, stepped out onto the dust path that called itself a road.

They met up in the middle, walked side by side, and Christopher felt no need for words.

-

Momma had spoken of soul mates. Christopher knew she'd meant a man and woman, husband and wife. Sweethearts, like her and Pa, two people who'd be together till Heaven and the Lord called one home.

And Christopher'd had that, with Sarah. But Christopher died with Sarah, with Adam.

Momma had spoken of soul mates.

Chris introduces himself and feels like maybe he's found himself again.


	5. do not ask me to leave you

**Title**: do not ask me to leave you or forsake you

**Fandom**: "The Magnificent Seven"

**Disclaimer**: Buck and Chris aren't mine. Title from the _Bible_ book "Ruth"

**Warnings**: pre-pilot

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 130

* * *

Buck will follow Chris, no matter where Chris leads. They're both reeling, lost in pain and rage, but Buck has always been able to shove down deep how he feels and focus on someone else's hurt.

Chris needs help; he's spiraling out of control, lashing out, taking out his fury on anyone who gets in his way. He needs someone who won't leave, who understands his moods and his actions. And Buck does. They've known each other for so long, he _knows_ Chris. Sees his flaws and his faults, accepts them. Accepts him.

Chris will pull out of his darkness one day. And he'll need someone there, someone to ground him, someone who understands and forgives.

So Buck'll stay with Chris because e remembers the man Chris used to be.


	6. turn into the thing

**Title**: turn into the thing

**Fandom**: "The Magnificent Seven"

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from CS Lewis.

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100

* * *

They don't often think of him as anything more than a dandy and he knows it. It quit bothering him long ago—just one of those facts of life. Josiah is the wise one, Nathan's kind, JD's brave, Buck is loyal, Vin wild, and Chris dangerous. But Ezra?

He's the cheat, the one who runs away when things get rough. He cares only for himself. Can't be counted on.

It hurts that so few count on him. Aches inside. But he can't prove himself, and there is no point. Minds are made up, and he can't change that.

Too late.


	7. a greying wolf howls

**Title**: a greying wolf howls the same old song at the moon

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Carol Ann Duffy.

**Warnings**: Um… future!fic, I guess. Somewhat sad.

**Pairings**: none mentioned, though I do have one in mind.

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 315

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

_A day after it's done, he falls apart. _

_He goes out into the wild, away from town and people and _I'm sorry _and_ If he could've chosen any way to go, it'd've been this_. He takes his horse and no saddle, no bridle, nothing but a gun and a knife and what's in his mind. He takes enough food for a single meal, because he learned to live off the land long ago._

_Town made him weak, civilization and its lies. Its promises. Town made him weak, and the men he found there. Made him believe he could have family again. Made him believe he was worthy._

_A day after it's done, he rides away without a word. He's said all he'll say. More words in an hour than he'd spoken in a year. The only true goodbye he's ever given. He doesn't look back, or regret. _

_He can't regret. _

_The sky stretches before him, and the land. His land, sure as he belongs to her. He learned that if you take care of the land, she'll care for you. She's the only thing a man can ever really count on._

_All the caring he has left is for his horse, who's never let him down in ten years, and the land that offers him sanctuary when people are just too hard. All the caring he has left… too much has been spent on people. They aren't something you can count on, when the dust dies down. They don't know how to stay._

_That, he's learned sure as the sun'll rise in the morning. _

_A day after… he doesn't cry. He hasn't cried. He stands facing the sunrise, eyes dry, and knows he's done with people for good. Should never have stayed so long in one place. _

_His horse nudges his shoulder and he swings himself up. He clucks his tongue and they move out, into the wild, the home where he never should have left. _


	8. I will tell ye now

**Title**: I will tell ye now what never yet was heard in tale or song

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Milton.

**Warnings**: stream-of-consciousness; depressing

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 170

**Point of view**: third

**Notes**: I've been reading far too many "Ezra is underappreciated, if he's appreciated at all" fics. *shrugs*

* * *

It'd be easy to give up, and he has considered it (more than once), and sometimes he wonders why he keeps trying and fighting and killing instead of just dying. It'd only take once, not dodging or firing back. A single mistake and it'd all be over, the conning and masking and lying. The judgment and blame would be gone, lost in blackness and blood. He might even be able to sleep, to dream something without fire and pain and hot blood cooling to a cloying puddle of rust. He might have laughter and smiles in place of silence and smirks. It'd be easier than enduring, giving in would, and he is so very tired of being strong, bleeding and bruising for people who don't thank him and think him lesser.

He refuses, though. He is a survivor, and he's lasted this long. He plays the odds, manipulating them with finesse, and he'll keep playing them, if only to spite all those waiting for him to fail.


	9. shark hunt

**Title**: shark hunt

**Fandom**: Supernatural/The Magnificent Seven modern-day AU

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: past Dean/Ezra, current Ezra/Vin

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 280

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Dean/Ezra, two of a kind

"Got room for one more?" Dean asks, pulling up a chair and sprawling on it.

"Of course," Ezra drawls. "Gentlemen, and lovely lady, do you mind if I deal in our late-comin' friend?"

To a chorus of negatives, Ezra grins, gold tooth glinting. "What do you have for a first wager?"

Dean's own smirk is outright dangerous. "Nothin' I can't stand to lose."

Meanwhile, Sam has settled down next to a man trying to blend into the wall, hiding at least three knives and guns on his body, and asks, "Your friend do this often?"

Blue eyes that see everything and miss nothing give him a once over. "Yours?" he asks in turn.

Sam nods and sighs.

Now, the look is commiserating. "Bet you got some fine stories about games gone wrong."

Smiling, Sam says, "That I do."

o0o

After the game, which Dean wins, he and Ezra meander to the bar and Dean buys them both a round. Dean quickly takes in Sam's buddy and smirks at Ezra. "Finally found a partner?" he asks, leaning on a stool.

"I see your brother finally found his calling on the road," Ezra returns.

"I guess that means we can't get outta here and find somewhere to do somethin' fun," Dean says.

"That would be correct, Mr. Winchester," Ezra tells him, raising his glass. "Unless you want Vin to fill you full of lead."

Dean laughs. "Good for you, Ez."

Ezra smiles, not his sharking grin or his _time for you to die_ smirk. "The years since we parted have been kind to me, Dean. Vin is…" He shrugs. "You understand."

Nodding, Dean gently taps their glasses together. "That I do."


	10. Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone

**Title**: Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Matthew Arnold.

**Warnings**: character death

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 155

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: table

* * *

He doesn't want to stay here anymore. There's no reason without his brothers, and they—they are gone. Most of them have died and only JD lives anymore, and he has changed, grown hard and unforgiving. He is nowhere near the kid that first rode into town, excited and young, so ready for adventure.

This town has no appeal without the others. Why he lived when they died, he doesn't understand. Wishes he'd died with them. JD isn't the same anymore, and he doesn't owe the man JD has become.

He leaves without much regret, though he does pause at their graves. One at a time, he says goodbye, to Nathan and Josiah, to Buck and Chris, to Vin.

He glances back, as the sun rises to paint the desert with light, and JD stands at the edge of town, watching him go.

Ezra tips his hat one last time, clucks to his horse, and is gone.


	11. past away a glory

**Title**: yet I know, where I go, that there hath past away a glory from the earth

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Wordsworth.

**Warnings**: character death

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 220

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Bible

* * *

"Hey, Preacher," Vin murmured, his voice barely heard over the rain.

"Yes, Vin?" Josiah responded, shifting closer.

"Tell me…" Vin paused to catch his breath, and Josiah gently grasped his hand. "A story…" Vin coughed and Josiah carefully wiped away the blood trickling over his lips.

"Once, there was a family," Josiah began quietly. "A woman and her husband, their sons and their sons' wives. Sickness suddenly struck their town and the menfolk died."

Vin choked, so Josiah turned him on his side till he caught his breath again. Josiah kept talking, calmly telling him, "The elder daughter-in-law left, to return to her own people, but the younger said, 'I will never leave you or forsake you.' And so she followed her mother-in-law back to her hometown and there she made a new life for herself."

Josiah placed a hand on Vin's chest, waiting—no breath stirred his young friend's body, so Josiah whispered, "Go with whatever god you believe in and find whatever peace you can, Vin Tanner." He bowed his head and prayed; over the rainstorm, he heard the sound of crows.

Retribution would be had, he knew, because Chris Larabee possessed no forgiving mood, and Josiah would exact vengeance for each labored breath Vin forced himself to take just to see his brothers again.


	12. one of these days

**Title**: one of these days

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: future!fic

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 175

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: job

* * *

A dollar a day and a federal pardon—seemed like a good idea at the time. Thirty days and then he could ride out, find a new town, a place to win actual money. Get back to work.

Thirty days, a dollar a day, room and board, the tarnish taken off his name. Simple, quick, and easy.

Three years later, he is still in Four Corners. He has been shot more than once, nearly died, and he'd long since been pardoned. He tried to leave with thousands of dollars, and the cash actually saved his life when he took a bullet for Mary Travis.

And he stays, not for the pay or the town—most of the people, he could take or leave, it doesn't matter. They are hypocritical and foolish. But his fellow peacekeepers, those men he would die for.

Will die for, he expects, one of these days. He'll stay until then or until his brothers tire of him and send him away. He expects that one of these days, too.


	13. how it goes

**Title**: how it goes

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: future!fic; character death

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 130

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: options

* * *

A: JD doesn't duck fast enough.

B: Buck sees a farmer hitting a woman, but he doesn't notice the farmer's friend.

C: Vin gets caught in the wilderness and never makes it back to town.

D: On his way to an outlying homestead, Nathan is lynched by a posse still angry about the end of the war.

E: Josiah refuses to leave his burning church, and he doesn't scream.

F: Not for the first time, Chris is too slow.

G: A sore loser challenges him and Ezra refuses to back down.

…

Z: Two gangs team up and attack Four Corners. By the end, both gangs are dead, but so are the seven peacekeepers. Four Corners becomes a ghost town after that, as everyone packs up and leaves.


	14. bloody wings and sharpened fangs

**Title**: bloody wings and sharpened fangs

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: fantasy AU, mentions of genocide

**Pairings**: pre-Chris/Vin

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 825

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Magnificent Seven (TV series), Chris/Vin, painful memories start to fade over time

* * *

They fade over time, his memories. Never completely, but they dull, the ache lessens, and sometimes he actually almost sleeps the whole night through. Doesn't see a ghost circling across the sky, splashing in the water, or waiting on the next hill, glinting bright silver beneath the burning sun.

He knows those men did what they thought was right. No dragons had ever raised a man before, not for anything but food. And he'd forgotten the language of men, those years the dragons had him.

But he wasn't kept for food. He wasn't a prisoner or a slave. He was beloved, the dragons' own. Their manchild. A dragonling in the shape of a boy.

But he's a man now. Taken and forced to live like a man. And the kings, all of them, the continent over, want his expertise to hunt the dragons. All those years they had him, he learned almost everything there was to know. He'd be a great asset in the quest to destroy the dragons.

But he sees Neresa everywhere, the queen-mother, the great silver dragon who ruled his territory. The one who carried him in her own claws, bleeding from a dozen wounds inflicted by men. The one who nursed him to health, who patiently taught him draconic, who sang him lullabies no human had ever heard before. She protected him, she raised him, she loved him. Her little dragonling born of man.

And now the human kings want him to hunt dragons. They even gave him a guard, soldiers meant to watch him, make sure he does as ordered. He will be killed if he even gives a single hint of trying to sabotage the mission.

Neresa told him of honor, and justice. Of blood-debts and blood-demands, and the God of Blood, Vincezika. The men who killed his family and took him to be civilized wanted something to call him. He never answered, so they called him _Boy_.

When the guards ask his name, he bares his teeth and says, "Vin."

o0o

Neresa named him Tanuhi, after the great dragon hero, the first dragon, born of the Northern Star. He grew wrestling with adolescent dragons, so a human is easy to kill. He leaves the bodies broken, ribs cracked open and hearts staked out on a barren hill.

Let the kings hunt the dragons themselves. He has his own quest.

The great queen-mother, Neresa Silverwing, raised him as her own, her beloved dragonling. And an army of men killed her and half her nest. Those who survived fled into the sky. He knows where they went.

A war is coming. He has yet to choose a side. But either way, he must speak to Neresa's heir.

o0o

In his memories, dragons fly, swim, roll in the grass laughing. He stretches along a silver neck and listens to stories of times so ancient that men have no words to describe them.

In his memories, dragons scream and men shout. It took an army to kill seven dragons, among them his mother, his queen.

Neresa could have escaped, but she turned back for him, her Tanuhi.

Tanuhi died with Neresa. Vin will find a way to avenge her.

o0o

In a forgotten Cyren town far from any law, Vin meets a man in black. Angry drunkards try to lynch a half-trained healing mage; Vin and the man in black save him. An elf and a fae bearing the Cyren mark of slavery ask them for help against marauders. No one would defend an elf or a slave from anything.

But Vin had once been Tanuhi, named for a hero, a human raised by dragons. An impossibility. An abomination.

The man in black says he'll help. The mage agrees. Vin smiles because allies are a great thing to have, and Neresa would've liked them.

o0o

After the marauders are defeated, Vin has six powerful beings on his side. Chris, the man in black, used to be an assassin, until an enemy killed his wife and child. The healing mage, Nathan, will be good enough to kill without touching when he's finished training. Ezra, a 'shifter they pick up along the way, can fool people into believing whatever he wants. Josiah was a wandering priest who exorcised demons and can control the weather in small doses. JD is a stubborn kid looking for adventure, but he has the making of greatness. And Buck has a touch of elf blood, enough for charm; he also has some history with Chris that Vin isn't yet privy to.

But being around Chris is a balm to Vin's soul. Something in him is like Neresa was, and it's enough to soften the biting edges of Vin's memories. Around Chris, a part of Tanuhi peeks through.

Neresa really would've liked Chris, Vin thinks. And this group, they will help him with his quest, whichever side of the conflict he chooses.

Neresa will be avenged, and Vincezika will drink his fill of men's blood.


	15. the name died before the man

**Title**: the name died before the man

**Fandom**: Highlander/Magnificent Seven ATF AU

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from AE Housman

**Warnings**: AU

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**:360

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Highlander/Mag 7, Methos/Ezra, someone he knew a long time ago has just walked back into his life

* * *

"We'll be bringing in a linguist to translate," Travis says, concluding the meeting. "Get back to work."

Ezra waits until his teammates have left, rereading the last page in his folder, and then he says, "You know, of course, that I could translate. Babylonian is my native tongue, after all."

"I know," Travis says. "But that would ruin your cover this life, wouldn't it?"

Grinning, Ezra rises, closing the folder. He gives Travis a sloppy salute as he walks out the meeting room.

o0o

It is a peculiar case, gunrunners using a form of Babylonian to pass information. Ezra had recognized the language immediately, but it took three days before the ATF could identify it.

The linguist is named Adam Matthews. Ezra senses him before he sets foot in the building.

Methos walks out the elevator dressed in jeans and a red shirt. Travis greets him, calls the team, and leads the way to the conference room.

o0o

"Dr. Matthews," Travis says later, after the case is closed and the gunrunners caught, their operation in tatters and their leader dead in a shoot-out, "please, allow me to take you to Denver's premier restaurant."

"Of course, Agent Travis," Methos says. "Right now, though, I'd really enjoy a piece of cheesecake. Do you know where I could find one?"

Ezra saunters over, declaring, "I know this little diner with the best cheesecake in the state. If our illustrious leader gives me the afternoon off, I can show you."

Travis and Chris share a look. "You did good work for this case, Ezra," Chris says. "Take the afternoon."

o0o

Ezra orders the cheesecake to go. He and Methos eat it at Ezra's dinner table, speaking in a dozen different languages, of people long dead and places long lost to time.

The last time they saw each other, the United States did not exist. Much has changed since then.

"Are you having fun, Ezekiel?" Methos asks.

Grinning, Ezra nods. "They're a good team, Methos." He pauses before adding, "Better than yours."

Methos scoffs. "We ruled the world, kid. All yours does is clean up the streets."

Ezra laughs, standing to pour himself a glass of milk.


End file.
